He Lingchuan lifted his shirt and saw that the wounds he had received from the werewolf the previous night were already knitting back together. They hardly hurt anymore. Even the gash along his ribs, which had been deep enough to show bone, was covered by a thick scab now.

That was unbelievably fast. He turned and handed Ling Guang a fistful of pear candies. “With you around, I’ve been spared a lot of suffering.”

The medicine ape had half a mind to refuse. Ape monsters did not typically eat sweets, but the aroma was just too tempting. Its hand, which had initially meant to push the candy away, instead curled around it. Quietly, it accepted the treat.

He Chunhua had gone into the palace at dawn and had not yet returned.

After washing up and changing clothes, He Lingchuan stuffed down a dozen oversized pork buns and two large bowls of peanut soup beaten with eggs. Half-full at last, he headed out the door.

Fixer Liu was waiting outside, dressed in fresh clothes but with heavy black circles under his eyes. It was clear that he had not slept a wink.

The moment he saw He Lingchuan, he bent low in a deep bow that he held for an uncomfortably long time.

He Lingchuan raised a brow. “What’s with the sudden politeness?”

“Last night, Young Master He saved my pitiful life. I can never repay the debt!” In the moment of crisis, He Lingchuan had given up his horse so that he could escape first. Fixer Liu had lived forty-odd years, yet never once had a noble treated him with such regard. Even the servants of the wealthy called him “fixer” with thinly veiled contempt.

“If it’s such a cheap life, then it’s not worth much thanks.”

“…”

He Lingchuan chuckled. “Enough with the theatrics. Just do your job well.”

Before yesterday, Fixer Liu’s deference was only because of money. After yesterday, it came from the heart.

He cast a furtive glance around. Once he was sure the medicine ape was not nearby, he leaned close and whispered, “Young Master He, you only hired Ling Guang yesterday morning, and by nightfall, you nearly lost your life. Could the ape not be an ill omen?”

He Lingchuan blinked. He had not even thought of that.

“Even the others it harmed, it took at least some time. But you, it was barely even half a day!” The more Fixer Liu thought about it, the more he trembled. After all, he himself had nearly been killed last night.

“Enough. Don’t go spouting nonsense. Haven’t you heard that misfortune can turn to fortune?” In truth, when He Lingchuan recalled Ling Guang’s wary, guilty glances earlier, his words rang true. “A few cuts and bruises in exchange for a giant wolf of the North Star Tundra as a companion? That sounds like fortune to me.”

He climbed into the carriage and turned to Fixer Liu, whose face was still clouded. “Our attackers from last night? Now they’re like dogs without a home, chased through the city with nowhere to hide. What’s left to fear?”

Inwardly, he knew Dong Rui would not be caught so easily. But with one puppet lost, the two others badly wounded, and state troops hunting him down, the puppet master surely had no time to trouble the He Family. Once they reached Xia Province, which had become their own turf, he would have even less reason to worry.

Besides, the north held Nian Zanli, the grand general who was still waiting to settle the blood feud for his slain son. All that had happened long before Ling Guang had joined them. If anyone was the true harbinger of disaster, it was He Lingchuan himself.

Fixer Liu mulled it over. He was just a nobody. He was hardly worth anyone’s trouble.

“So, where to now?”

“Take me to Jinghe Hall at the foot of Mount Bijia,” He Lingchuan said, leaning back into the cushions with a yawn. “I’m visiting the wounded.”

The carriage rumbled into motion. He Lingchuan left the curtains open, once again marveling at the bustle and wealth of Shihuan, which were far beyond anything those of Heishui City. On the broad northern avenue, the crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder. The city’s greatest lifeblood flowed through the northern docks, where all goods from north and south had to be loaded and unloaded.

Great Yuan poured the strength of the entire state into sustaining its capital and its second capital.

However, He Lingchuan was heading south, and the farther they went, the narrower and rougher the streets became. The people thinned, the buildings shrank, the paint and stonework looked worn, and the houses pressed closer together.

He Lingchuan thought of his little house in the Panlong Dreamscape.

It turned out that flat-roofed houses looked much the same no matter where you went.

Before long, the carriage passed a tavern with a shabby façade. Its signboard creaked as it swayed, bearing two bold black words: Fragrant Citron.

Mao Tao had mentioned yesterday that he and the other men of the Coordinating Army had drunk here. The wine was cheap, hearty, and never watered down. The braised pig’s head served with its hair plucked clean was worth the money, too.

A hundred paces farther, the road ahead grew clogged. The carriage could hardly move.

He Lingchuan craned his neck to see. A crowd had surrounded the entrance of a three-floor house, all of them chattering right outside the door.

From inside, two corpses were being carried out, both draped in white cloth.

The wind lifted a corner of one of the draped cloths, revealing the face of a young woman, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, neither pretty nor plain. A deep gash across her throat told the tale.

The cut was clean. He Lingchuan judged the weapon to be a short blade or dagger. The killer had likely stood behind her, one hand muffling her scream, the other slashing down, quick and silent, so that not even the neighbors heard a thing.

The door stood open. He glanced inside and saw weeds sprouting in the cracks of the floor, clutter piled in the corners, and a square table with one leg propped on half a tattered book.

This family was poor. In fact, they were so poor that even after their bodies were carried away, the living who slipped inside could only make off with a few chipped dishes and bowls.

He Lingchuan also noticed several old women spitting disdainfully against the wall.

Fixer Liu leaned in for a look, frowning. “Isn’t that Yao Erniang’s place? There are only two of them in that household, and both of them are being carried out.” He clicked his tongue, then added, “I heard the authorities started rounding up fugitives at dawn. Plenty of commoners got hurt.”

He Lingchuan pointed toward the murmuring crowd. “Then why do I hear people whispering, ‘Well, serves them right. It was bound to happen sooner or later’?”

“That’s because of their trade. Yao Erniang’s husband went to the front lines and came back one-armed. His temper changed, too. He’s illiterate, useless for hard labor, and he squandered their pension. In the end, he had his wife sell her body. She plied her trade right here in their own home.”

He Lingchuan said, “I see. So it was a backdoor brothel.”

“Exactly. They refused to grease palms, so they made enemies. The husband often quarreled with her clients. Neighbors heard the rows more than once.”

He Lingchuan said no more. It was not his affair.

In truth, it was not anyone’s affair.

Two insignificant people of the gutter, lives no more precious than stray dogs. Even if they died in some bloody, mysterious fashion, they would stir no great ripple. In seven or eight days, everyone would have forgotten them entirely.

* * *

Ever since the monarch stopped hunting at Luming Garden, more houses and markets had sprung up at the foot of Mount Bijia. And with the crowds came pharmacies and clinics.

Jinghe Hall was a chain clinic run by the Fu Family. Though this branch under Mount Bijia was only a subsidiary, a famous physician was seeing patients in the front hall this month. The sick and injured came in droves.

The rear hall served as both pharmacy and ward, where the gravely ill or seriously wounded could rest and receive treatment.

After asking around, Fixer Liu led He Lingchuan to their target: the youth who had been rushed here last night by Ke Jihai’s men.

The youth was awake now. The dark hue between his brows had faded, leaving his face pale as paper, frail and spent.

He sat up in bed, wrapped in a quilt, eating his breakfast, which was a pot of watery millet porridge, a small dish of pickled melon rind, and half a hard flatbread.

The bread must have been like rock, as even after two bites, he still could not manage to break it apart.

The ward was large and crowded with patients, but only a single brazier burned in the corner, clearly not enough to keep the place warm.

The youth recognized He Lingchuan at once. Setting aside the hard flatbread, he made no move to rise. He just clasped his fists and said, “Young Master He!”

“Don’t mind me, keep eating. How are your injuries?” He Lingchuan thought it curious. Everyone else addressed him as “young master,” but this lad used the more scholarly “gongzi.”[1]

The youth lifted his pot and slurped noisily at the watery porridge. “The doctor says I’ll live.”

“My mother is grateful that you shielded her yesterday. She especially asked me to come check on you.” As He Lingchuan spoke, he drew out a sandalwood box and opened it before him. “A small token of thanks.”

Inside lay two flawless pearls, each the size of a lychee, and two fine slabs of creamy white jade, lustrous and smooth as fresh fat.

Anything Madame Ying offered in gratitude was bound to be generous. Together, these four treasures could fetch at least two hundred taels of silver. Even in Shihuan City, that was enough to keep a family of four living in comfort for years.

“It was nothing but a lift of the hand. I don’t dare accept,” the youth said, startled. He had not expected the He Family’s thanks to be so extravagant. “How is Madame Ying?”

“She… took a fright and is still resting today.”

“And how did things end last night?”

The youth had been struck by a poisoned arrow and had fainted early. He had not seen the outcome.

At this point, Fixer Liu stepped forward with a fruit basket. He lifted the cover to show its contents, then left to run the other errands He Lingchuan had assigned him.

The basket held two large bundles of strawberries and a bundle of bright red dates. In the depths of winter, fruit was dearer than meat.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” He Lingchuan said, rubbing his chin. “In short, the werewolf and the giant ape were subdued. But then the ape’s master took it away. We haven’t tracked it down yet.”

“Were there casualties?”

“The only real wounds were to me and General Ke. One carriage driver took an arrow to the left eye. He was brought here, but there was nothing to be done. Compared to him, you’re lucky.” He Lingchuan added, “My father has already sent his family a generous pension.”

I truly am lucky to have survived. The youth let out a long sigh. His face carried a trace of melancholy.

He went on to introduce himself. His name was Sun Hongye. Once, he had served as a study companion to the third son of the He Family of Fangtai, but a few months ago, he had left their household and was now working as a bookkeeper in a rice shop.

“He Family of Fangtai?” The name rang a bell for He Lingchuan.

“That would be the family of Imperial Censor He Liwen. You met their third son yesterday.”

“Oh!” He Lingchuan recalled. “He Su?”

Sun Hongye nodded.

“So what were you doing seeking out General Ke at Luming Garden?”

“I…” The youth pressed his lips together until they were a thin line. His face flushed faintly, and he hesitated for a long time before confessing, “I went to recommend myself to him.”

That only made He Lingchuan more curious. “Recommend yourself for what position?”

“An adviser, a strategist!” Once spoken, the words seemed to free him. Sun Hongye lifted his chin and declared, “Better to serve a wise lord and build something worthy than to linger here in Shihuan, waiting for the butcher’s knife!”

1. Note that both 大少 and 公子 (gongzi) mean young master; it’s just that they have slightly different connotations. ☜